


Haunting

by snowkatze



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M, Minor Character Death, Pining, Wraith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:55:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24345373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowkatze/pseuds/snowkatze
Summary: While fighting a wraith, Geralt realizes that, if he doesn't want Jaskier's blood on his hands, he will have to push him away. He really should not be so surprised that Jaskier won't let him.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 9
Kudos: 170





	Haunting

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt from tumblr:
> 
> "I know you're trying to push me away, but I won't let you."
> 
> followed by
> 
> "The only person I need right now is you."

Past should stay passed, Geralt always thought. Some things were better buried. The before and the before the before – before the Djinn, before Jaskier, back when the world was easy – and before that there was Kaer Morhen – a castle filled with blood, bad odds and dying dreams. Grave's scattered across the continent, filled with Geralt's worst mistakes, with so many people he never managed to save.

And here she was – not his past, small mercies for that, but past none the less. Engulfed in a green shine, she hovered a few feet above the ground, her dress laced with finest jealousy. She bared her teeth to him like an animal would, straight and pale-green and not the least bit sharp. Gone was all sense of poise or elegance she possessed in her mortal life. Geralt had seen women like her before, born into nobility. She must have had everything. And now she felt entitled to it.

She floated toward him and instinctively, Geralt stumbled back. He teetered on the edge. A glance down quickly reminded him that they were on the highest floor of a five-story building. The contractor, Mr. Lewandowski, pressed himself further against the wall and he stared at her with an intensity only someone haunted could muster. He had been calm and unfazed when Geralt had first spoken to him, arrogance straightening his spine, but deep-seated cowardice in his eyes.

Geralt kept a tight grip on the cold handle of his sword, but made no move toward the spirit. The problem was not the number or the strength of the enemy, it was the number of people to protect. Mr. Lewandowski's mistress wailed quietly on the floor, already beaten down and bleeding from her forehead. But the worst part of it, the part where Geralt felt his eyes darting around, where he felt his movements become frantic, where he felt irrationality slowly taking over his brain, was Jaskier in the corner of his eyes. Idiotic, reckless Jaskier who could not keep out of trouble to save his life. Geralt would be damned if that became literal today.

“Darling,” the spirit said, her voice sweet as sugar, “do you remember the stars that night?”

Even though her words were directed at Mr. Lewandowski, she kept her eyes on Geralt, probably because he was the one with the sword.

“They were sparkling so beautifully, and no better place to watch than from the roof top, isn't that right?”  
It would be so easy for Jaskier to run, the stairs were right behind him. He was not hurt yet, there was nothing keeping him from getting to safety. The wraith was not interested in him.

“You've always been a romantic, that's why I fell for you. For wedding nights, spent watching the stars at night.”

But of course, Jaskier's unhealthy fascination with dangerous things kept him rooted to the spot, had kept him rooted at Geralt's side for years.  
“So you, great appreciator of beautiful things, was my hair not golden enough for you? Does she buy you the prettiest jewellery? Do the stars shine brighter now that I'm gone?”

Mr. Lewandowski, perhaps remembering that he had once loved her, or perhaps still loving her, slowly stepped away from the wall and took a small step towards her.

“It wasn't my fault,” he said, voice rough, “I didn't know the roof was slippery.”  
“But you did know it had rained the night before.”  
“You – she's lying -”  
“I say nothing I do not believe.”  
“She slipped from my grasp, I would have done anything to pull her back up,” his voice was shaking, his whole face was doused in sweat. Her face lit up in anger, she was consumed with it. Could only violence bring her peace now? If Geralt only had more time -

She charged toward the woman on the ground so quickly, it almost felt like nothing more than a gush of wind.

“Hey, beautiful,” Jaskier said and Geralt's head whipped around. He had gripped a broken chair leg, and threw it forcefully at the wraith, who snarled at him.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Geralt said, snarling too.

“I-improvising?” Jaskier said and finally – _finally –_ stumbled backwards, a few steps down the stairs when the wraith started lashing out in his direction. Geralt tried to concentrate and focus on the wraith, though it was hard when he always had a clumsy idiot to keep track of. He lunged at her with the sword and kept going. Geralt tried to fight the panic off he had felt when she had moved towards Jaskier, but the stupid nerve connection between his brain and his legs made his next steps a bit sloppy. He tried to cast Yrden when his hits wouldn't land, but the wraith quickly slipped out of the way. This was just a fucking wraith, an _easy_ one and Geralt was acting like a boy before his trials – what was wrong with him?  
“You -” Geralt shouted to Mr. Lewandowski, “make yourself useful. Find her veil.”

He could see him starting to search for the veil while he continued to charge at the wraith. She was quick, but usually Geralt was quick, too, what was going on, why couldn't his gaze ever stop searching for Jaskier, who still wouldn't run, he wanted to yell, but yelling never worked, Jaskier always  _stayed_ and there was nothing he could ever do about it.

“I won't allow you her sweeter kisses,” the wraith asserted and made for the woman and when Geralt swirled around she was already falling and they were always falling and Jaskier was human and weak and fragile and just a gush of wind could have pushed him over the edge -

“I've found it!” Mr. Lewandowski yelled.

Geralt fought and he fought and he never won – they always fell. And Jaskier was always, always too close to the edge.

Mr. Lewandowski threw the veil when the wraith came toward him and Geralt ran to catch it.

“Helena -”  
“It never slipped,” she said raising her voice and finally shouting. “You let go of my hand. _You_ let go of _my hand_!”

She was almost about to reach him when Geralt cast Igni on the veil and it went up in flames. The green blazes consumed the wraith almost in an instant and Geralt let out a harsh breath. She was gone – and so was that woman. 

“That was close,” Mr. Lewandowski said after a while. “And all that, just to burn a veil? What did I even hire you for?”

Why was it always men like Mr. Lewandowski who survived?

“Your wraith is gone. I held up my end of the bargain.”  
“I suppose. I would expect the higher the body count, the more you shave off the cost.”

Geralt sighed very deeply.

“You lost your – woman... and you are worried about money?”  
Mr. Lewandowski shrugged a little and smiled – the unsettling smile of someone who had gotten quite good at lying to himself. Geralt pressed his lips together. At the end of the day, monsters were monsters and humans were humans. Or maybe it was the other way around? Geralt had lived so long that he wasn't quite sure any more.

***  
  
“Whew, that was an adventure,” Jaskier said when they were on the road again. “This is why I will never get married.”  
Jaskier was always too - there.  
“Hm.”

“You're lucky I was there. Nifty trick with the chair leg, don't you think? You can always rely on your best friend to save you -”  
Jaskier was not enough yesterday and certainly not enough tomorrow.  
He was too human. Too _being._

_He was too little of too much._   
“We're not  _friends_ .”  
And he always tore at Geralt, tore at everything, until there were a thousand tears in Geralt's skin, and worse, a thousand tears hidden in his eyes, because witchers never cry.  
“Gee, what would you call it after all these years? Careful acquaintanceship? I beg to differ -”

And Geralt had had enough of it.  
“You are nothing,  _nothing_ to me.”  
He'd had enough of the smiles, the smirks, the twinkle in Jaskier's eyes.

“You are the last person I ever want to see.”

He'd had enough of the touches, the distractions, the closeness.

“The only reason you've followed me around for years is because I've never found a way to fucking get rid of you.”

Enough of this strange, unfamiliar feeling in his chest.

Jaskier had left Geralt raw. Exposed. Like he had stripped away Geralt's skin and then his flesh until all that Geralt was was  _teeth_ and  _bark_ and  _bite_ . And he was not soft after Jaskier was done with him, he was harsh and hard and there was no sight more harrowing than that of Geralt's skeleton hand reaching out to him – so very fragile, but were they too fragile to – strangle? How hard can bone fingers squeeze?  
How could Jaskier leave him so breakable?  
He had stripped Geralt of everything, one shove and he would have a clutter, a clusterfuck.

_Give me one look and you will have me in shambles, touch me and I will be smithereens._

Geralt pressed his teeth together and he would keep pressing until he heard something break. Jaskier was staring at him, nothing but staring, and _how much do I have to hurt you before you leave? How far do I have to reach into your soul and destroy whatever I find before you finally see?_

“I know you're trying to push me away, but I won't let you,” Jaskier said finally.  
Jaskier had loved a hundred people before and none of them were here now.

“Of course I'm trying to push you away, how else would I get you to finally leave?”

_(I dare you to find my skeleton in the mass grave you left behind, can you tell human from witcher?)_

Jaskier was a leaver and Geralt was – a leavee. He was always being left behind, why would this be different?  
Humans were usually fickle, so if Geralt only pushed in the right places... Even someone as stubborn as Jaskier would eventually cave.

“I don't need you, I've never needed you, you're a nuisance, nothing more.”  
“Geralt, it's okay. It's okay to need people. You don't always have to walk alone, you know.”  
Jaskier should keep his pretty lies to himself, Geralt didn't need them. Everyone left. And Geralt was a witcher, not easily deceived.

Geralt pressed his eyes closed, like that would make it all go away, like the image of her falling would vanish.

Slowly, he opened them again and looked at Jaskier, who was still gentle, even though Geralt didn't deserve it and never had.

_You will die one day and come back to haunt me, won't you?_

_(You are already haunting me.)_

Jaskier stepped closer carefully. In the face of a thousand lies Geralt almost told him – _I hate you, I hate you, I hate you_ – all Jaskier did was – come closer. Shocked, Geralt stepped back.

“You're always distracting, you're always so irritating, you don't make any fucking sense -”  
 _I push and I push and you, impossible human, come closer._

“I'm staying. Don't you know that, Geralt? If you let me, I will always stay.”  
 _What, so you can push me off the edge -_

“Geralt, you don't really want me to go, do you?” Jaskier said softly.

“You will,” Geralt said, all false anger suddenly drained out of him. “You'll go. And I won't be able to stop you.”

“Why would you say that?”  
Jaskier slowly reached out and touched Geralt's hand – Geralt could barely keep himself from flinching away.

“Because you're human.”  
And Geralt knew, of course he did, what that strange feeling in his chest was, what was so hard to contain but even harder to set free.

Geralt had never loved someone as fleeting as Jaskier. Jaskier flickered from one moment to the next, always a hair's breadth away from flickering out.

_Do you think I can stomach that? Do you think I will ever stop seeing your shadow?_

_(You make me so breakable.)  
(You make me more human than anyone else.)_

And then Jaskier seemed to see something in Geralt's eyes.

“Oh Geralt. You...”

The shameful truth of it burned in Geralt's throat.  
“I don't mean to.”  
“But you do.”

“Hard not to.”  
“Yes. It's the same for me too.”

Jaskier grabbed Geralt's hand gently. It was a firm grip, one not easily broken.

“I'm sorry,” Geralt said quietly, and no matter what Geralt said, Jaskier came closer.

“I know.”

Jaskier deserved so much more than this, so Geralt was going to try.  
“The truth,” he started and broke off. “The truth is. The only person I need right now is you.”

“That's okay,” Jaskier said and squeezed Geralt's hand. “I'm always here.”

It was a promise, and Geralt, who was more of a fool than he would like to admit, believed him, at least a little bit. For just a moment, he allowed himself to believe that this touch would not haunt him years from now, and drew Jaskier in closer. He kissed him, then, and did not think about how there was a last for every first and pain for every bit of joy Geralt had ever dared to reach for. He kissed Jaskier and thought not for a single second about the repercussions.

The stars above them were shining brilliantly.

Some people can reach for the stars and they will fall, but falling upwards is just - flying.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked this!  
> Any kudos or comment is appreciated :)
> 
> Come talk to me or leave a prompt on [tumblr](https://dancedelion.tumblr.com/)!


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